It was one of those really uncomfortable moments for me as just minutes before I had sat there feeling like a completely unwelcome outsider as my fellow classmates joined in on mocking the church tradition I come out of. The banter had been meant in fun, more as a way to make fun of themselves than others, but it had still been an awkward exchange. Per new seminary policy, all the ordination track students had to participate in the seminary’s Triduum services over Easter – a very old-school high-liturgy that consumed their whole weekend. The purpose, as they explained to me, was so that they could be trained in the right way of doing vigils since the parishes they serve will rarely know the correct forms for such things. So as they came off of the Easter frenzy exhausted as classes started again, the joke that morning was that next year they should petition to do the whole thing low-church style. This started everyone in on joking what sorts of appalling low-church stuff they could do – from spending the whole service doing announcements to giving into the congregation’s consumer demands to sing hymns people actually know. It was all meant in fun so I just sat and listened to them mock the cultural church traditions I am used to, but as the only non-Episcopalian in the class it was hard not to feel like an outsider.

And then we started class and the question was raised as to how minorities at the seminary might not feel welcome. It was difficult to not speak up about the discussion before class – . Or to mention that every time I hear my classmates discuss things like Enriching Our Worship (liturgies that include prayers and hymns from other cultures) it is only to mock it. Or the incredulous gossip-like statements of “have you heard, there are some churches that actually use grape juice and crackers for Eucharist?” Or the arguments I’ve heard that only 17th century high-liturgy done with the finest of serviceware available is proper worship. Or that what feminists and blacks do is not true theology, but merely an expression of Christian spirituality. When one form of culture is upheld as the God-ordained norm and everything else mocked, then of course those who differ from that norm are not going to feel welcome.

The seminary is very white and reflects one segment of cultural worship practices of white middle class Americans. I knew as a post-evangelical I was an outsider going into seminary yet even as an outsider I respect the culture forms of worship practice that most of my classmates find meaningful and beautiful. But I struggle when such forms of worship get in the way (even unintentionally) of respecting the dignity of others. It is one thing to choose to participate in a particular cultural form of worship, but quite another to mock the forms of others or expect them to convert to your ways in order to be a proper Christian. This goes far deeper than silly worship wars, but gets at the very core of what it even means to worship God at all.

As I’ve come to understand it, to commit oneself to ascribing worth-ship to God one must embrace the patterns of life that God deems worthy. As the biblical prophets repeatedly assert, rituals of worship that seek to draw us close to God or that proclaim God’s worth are meaningless if we are not actually living in the ways of God. The purpose of worship is this pursuit of righteousness – being in right relation with God and in relation to all that God has created. As Isaiah declares, this involves more than just fasting or participating in convocations, but engaging in actions that work to right those relationships. We might be strengthened, or shaped, or comforted by our community’s rituals, but those are forms that should never be mistaken for the deeper function of worship. More significantly such forms should never prevent us from engaging in the ways of life God deems worthy. Ritual should never stand in the way of our caring for those in need, of respecting the dignity of others, or loving our neighbors.

It is difficult to see the pain of my classmates who do feel unwelcome at my seminary especially when it is it cultures of worship creating the division. Yet as an outsider myself it is similarly difficult to know how to work to help resolve this tension.

And yes, that must be mentally read to the Fiddler on the Roof tune.

Recent discussions here brought up the need to respect and submit to the authority of tradition in the church. Those of us in emerging discussion based churches were accused of just being individualists with no higher authority but ourselves. We were asked what church authority we submit to in the faith with the assumption that everyone should be submitting to someone. Such things like liturgy were championed because they are rooted in tradition and hence are often put forth as therefore the appropriate way to do church. This is a discussion popular in the church these days – even in emerging circles. We have Phyllis Tickle saying that the future of the church is in the hyphenateds – traditional denominations that are engaging the emerging conversation. Jim Belcher's recent book, Deep Church, suggests an alternative to emerging Christianity is to have the church rooted in tradition, specifically the conservative reformed Presbyterian tradition. And Brian McLaren even recently affirmed what Richard Rohr said about the need for Emergents to be rooted in tradition -

It seems to me that the emerging church is emerging because people are finding the ability to have a grateful foot in both camps—one in the Tradition (the mother church) along with another foot inside of a support group that parallels, deepens, broadens, grounds, and personalizes the traditional message. But you don’t throw out the traditional message, or you have to keep rebuilding the infrastructure or creating a superstructure all over again.

I get all that. I see the beauty of tradition. I see the futility in think we are building something from scratch. I don't think tradition should be scoffed at or rejected. I'm not anti-tradition.

It's just that none of those are my traditions. I have never been rooted in liturgical practice. I didn't grow up in denominations with catechisms and standard hymnals and theological tomes that cannot be questioned. I feel no allegiance to Luther, or Calvin, or Barth. I know I am influenced by them and owe my faith to the path they laid, but I've never been part of that tribe. I guess I could choose to adopt their tradition as my own just like I could decide that I wanted to become thoroughly culturally Chinese, but at the moment I feel no inclination to become Lutheran (or Chinese).

I know I am part of a great tradition. My faith does not exist in a vacuum – I respect and am grateful for the heritige of my faith. But I get uneasy with the repeated insistence that I must have at least one foot planted firmly in some tradition in order to have a holistic and healthy faith. I am told that I am rejecting tradition in pursuit of an individualistic faith if I do not. But honestly how can I reject something I never had? Those aren't my tribes. I am just a low-church mutt who has found her place in the emerging conversation.

So given that – the question becomes "is tradition necessary for faith?" Or, can I be a Christian outside of a historic tradition or must I choose to align myself with an established tradition in order to be truly faithful? I know that's the Catholic and Orthodox stance – but is it the official stance of the Lutherans, or Presbyterians, or Anglicans, or the emerging hyphenateds thereof? Must I choose one of those tribes? Or is there actually room for building new infrastructure and making a tribe out of us fringe immigrants who have no home?

This discussion is often framed as a dichotomy between tradition and rejection thereof – but not all of us fit neatly into those two categories. There needs to be room for us too – even if that requires changing the nature of this whole discussion.